A Billionaire's Redemption - By Cindy Dees Page 0,22
desperate, and frankly pitiful, attempt to use her father’s notoriety to get attention for herself?”
“Is that what everyone else believes?” he asked blandly.
“Absolutely. I gather, then, that you concur?” She shoved the microphone under his nose expectantly.
“I think you’re a pushy hack who doesn’t give a damn about reporting the truth, and who’s looking to claw your way past anyone who gets between you and fame. If we’re talking about pitiful and desperate, let’s take a closer look at you, shall we?”
The cameraman guffawed with laughter, and Paula growled at the guy to stop filming. She turned on Gabe, glaring venomously. “I can make your life a living hell, you know. I can dig up plenty of dirt on you.”
He stepped forward until he was chest-to-chest with the woman. “There’s one small flaw with your big threat, darlin’. I don’t give a tinker’s damn what anyone thinks of me. Say whatever you want about me because I. Don’t. Care.”
She took an involuntary step backward, and the cameraman made an amused sound behind her. If possible, the reporter’s gaze became even more enraged. Gabe brushed by her and stabbed the key in the front door lock.
He half turned and commented casually, “By the way, you’re trespassing on private property. I’m going inside and fetching my shotgun. If you’re still on my porch when I return, I’ll assume you mean me harm and will shoot you where you stand in accordance with Texas homestead laws.”
He stepped inside the dim interior and closed the door gently. He did, indeed, cross the living room and take his grandfather’s shotgun down from its brackets over the rough-sawed cedar mantel. Gabe had learned long ago never to make any threat he wasn’t prepared to follow through on. Otherwise, it made people think you were weak.
He opened the front door, shotgun in hand, and was gratified to see Paula scuttle the rest of the way to the KVXT van in an undignified scramble of legs, microphone wires and stiletto heels. She was still scowling furiously at him as the vehicle peeled away from the curb in a hurry.
No doubt about it, that woman was going to be trouble. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle. A billion-dollar bank account gave a man the power to get rid of pests like her. He didn’t usually make a practice of throwing his weight around, but he could make an exception for her.
An ugly and unfamiliar feeling crept past his irritation, though. Shocked, he identified it as fear. Obviously, the reporter had set her sights on breaking down Willa’s story of being raped. Probably thought she could weasel a Pulitzer out of it for herself. Who cared if she destroyed the life of a victimized young woman who’d just tragically lost her father?
Yup, Paula Craddock was going on the list with James Ward of people to teach a lesson to.
* * *
Willa rubbed her eyes and took a sip of the now-cold coffee sitting beside her. She’d been in her father’s office for hours, combing through his files on the computer there.
It hurt to go through his private correspondence like this. She could almost hear him saying the things written in his emails and memos. She’d mostly gotten over her disbelief that her father was dead, but the sharp ache of loss still stabbed at her. No matter how big a bastard he might have been, he was still her father. She’d spent the better part of her life trying to please him and had basked in his approval whenever he’d doled out a smidgen of it to her.
Larry Shore had grudgingly handed over the passwords to get into the encrypted portions of her father’s machine, and had then departed hastily, leaving her to sort out the jumbled mess for herself. If her father had a system for filing anything, it was certainly eluding her.
A few things about her father’s life as a senator were becoming clear, however. He was firmly hooked into the good ol’ boy network. Most of what he accomplished was done through under-the-table trades and mutual back-scratching arrangements. Her father didn’t appear to have even the slightest sense of ethics or fairness in how he chose to support or oppose various pieces of legislation. It was all about what he could get from someone else.
Although she’d been aware of his horse-trading style, a tiny part of her had hoped he’d had at least some small shred of conscience. That once in a while, he voted on